


under the guise of haste

by beebuzz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Quickies, like one line, mentioned recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebuzz/pseuds/beebuzz
Summary: No matter how frantically he searched, Akaashi still hadn’t quite found who he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to be doing with his time; but in the hold of broad, steady hands- just for a moment- he didn’t have to think so hard.And so, he foolishly let Miya Osamu into his life in whatever capacity either of them so pleased.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 9
Kudos: 125





	under the guise of haste

Some people don’t have to be studied, picked apart, or scrutinized. They give themselves up all at once. 

Words, bolded on the page. 

Sometimes, there is no pretense- no deceptive veil- no buffer to hide what’s below. Just sincerity. There are those that remain genuine no matter if the taste they leave behind is sweet or bitter.

As simple as that may come across, it is refreshing and it is trustworthy.

Maybe that’s why this started happening.

Maybe that’s why Akaashi let his guard down so easily all those months ago.

No matter how frantically he searched, he still hadn’t quite found who he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to be doing with his time; but in the hold of broad, steady hands- just for a moment- he didn’t have to think so hard.

And so, he foolishly let Miya Osamu into his life in whatever capacity either of them so pleased.

Currently, that capacity seemed to be limited to repetitive, covetous hookups; the meaning behind them just as unspoken as the reason they began.

The first time, it was a chance meeting. A little tipsy, a lot curious. Hands and mouths went fast, but the relief lingered in his bones for days.

The second time, it was just as surprising but far more sober. Things were slower. More thorough. The feeling seeped into him with an addictive heat. A simmer that was always kicked up to boiling as soon as he caught sight of that easy smile.

The third, 

The fourth, 

How many times had it been?

How often would they wind up in the same place, drift closer to one another, soon enough wind up with no space in between them at all... 

Akaashi claimed to himself it was all happenstance. Just two people stumbling upon each other without meaning to. But only once can it be considered an accident. At this point, it feels much more like a habit. One that Akaashi, regretfully, doesn't care to try and break.

It’s possible that it’s not the healthiest, but it’s also far from the most detrimental of his habits.

Drinking, smoking, living off leftover take-out and enough bitter coffee to kick his heart into a worse state of constant panic than it already is- surely, distracting himself by seeking Osamu out whenever he sees him is the only one that doesn’t seem to hurt more than it helps. The part of him that ponders the need for a stable, consistent relationship would beg to differ; but for now, that naive part is quiet enough to be overpowered by the want.

The want that speared him through the chest from across Atsumu’s apartment the moment his own eyes met steely grey like a dozen times before.

Hinata on one side of him, Bokuto on the other, Akaashi had been dragged along after their game. He doesn’t  _ need _ to be here. Arguably, he didn’t  _ want _ to be here- After congratulating the team on a win, he knew he had just enough time to eat and sleep before he would get up and begin work. The publishers had been more demanding than usual. He was already spreading himself thin as it was- depriving himself even further of sleep would surely bite him the ass come morning.

_ “But we won and we want you there Akaashi-san-”  _ Hinata had lamented loudly in his ear as Bokuto ushered him onto the train.

_ “Everybody’s gonna be there.”  _ Bokuto had joined in. _ “You gotta come!” _

They both had donned their worst, most pitiful looks and that had been the end of it.

Truthfully, what had  _ really _ done him in was the dropped fact of where they were heading. 

What that promised.

_ Who  _ that promised.

He only willingly entered Atsumu’s apartment for one thing. 

And suddenly he was justifying how little sleep he could get and still make it through the next day without passing out.  _ It’ll be good _ \- he tried to tell himself. To convince himself this was necessary stress relief.

So, he went.

And he tried not to scan the apartment too intently when he walked through the door. Nonetheless, call it fate or a coincidence or strategic planning, he found what he was looking for. He was not alone. He was found all the same. Not even a step in the door and he could feel it.

Their eyes caught one another, unsurprised and unwavering. It had been weeks this time. Nearly two months since he’d last snuck away from his friends and wound up pressed into the passenger’s seat of Osamu’s work van.

There wasn’t any question behind the way Osamu watched him from the couch. By now the shock of running into each other had faded into something akin to pleased understanding. There was still an undercurrent of excitement but it wasn’t nearly as alarming- as uncomfortable- to be in the same place and act like there wasn’t anything between them.

Akaashi considered a nod at the slight upward curl to Osamu’s mouth but then someone spoke to him again and he was looking away.

But it was clear. That split-second, charged glance and the hint of a smile was all it took for Akaashi to know he’d been seen for all the reason and intent needed to keep him there.

In spite of that, he’d carried about the night like he hadn’t been noticed at all. It was their game of sorts- no rules but an obvious goal.

Hours passed like fuzzy noise outside his head. He was always looking over his shoulder, sparing eyes over the room, waiting and watching for the moment that felt right.

He’d lost sight of Osamu for a while, wondered briefly if he’d really left without saying a single word, but ultimately decided to wait it out. Akaashi listened in the meantime to Bokuto and Atsumu ranting through every play they’d run and arguing about which were better. They never really seemed to care if Akaashi participated or not. They talked around him, occasionally,  _ at _ him just to include him but it was never with any real intent on gaining his input past quiet praise and agreement. At least, not when it came to their own performances.

It didn’t bother him.

This way he could keep his focus on the rest of the group- and when he saw Osamu next, he could lock on.

It had been a minute or two ago that he’d felt Atsumu leave; and now, Bokuto is saying something to him. It’s animated, loud, preening for his attention- but it won’t be given. Akaashi is too busy watching-  _ staring _ \- across the crowded space at the back of Osamu’s head. He won’t let him slip away again. Akaashi can’t see much of his face, but he can tell when his shoulders shift for a laugh.

Something bitter bubbles in his chest at that.

It’s as good a time as any.

“Bokuto-san,” He cuts in abruptly but throws on a smile as he turns his head. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment-”

He doesn’t need to say more than that,  _ thankfully-  _ he wasn’t sure what the excuse would’ve been if he needed one. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bokuto stops without another word and nods along like he understands. He couldn’t- he’s often too wrapped up in his own story to notice when someone isn’t listening- but he lets Akaashi go without question or concern. He’s just as happy to turn and start rambling to the next person and sometimes,  _ these _ times, Akaashi is especially grateful for that fact.

Slipping through to the back of the main room, Akaashi keeps his head low until it’s peering around and into the side of a conversation.

“Miya-san,” 

Imposing but not quite assertive. His hand meets the small of Osamu’s back. It’s a tiny gesture that could easily be overlooked as just passing through, but it makes his presence known. The words shared between Osamu and someone who Akaashi can’t fully remember fall to a stop. He pulls his hand away just as fast, but Osamu was already flinching and turning his head. The smile that wanted to jump forward is promptly stifled into a courteous nod.

“Your brother seems a bit busy, so would you mind helping me find something in the kitchen?”

Nevermind that he just came from there and anyone could have picked up on the guile in the statement.

Nevermind that he’s being entirely rude and doesn’t even care to offer them an apology.

It’s the first words they’ve shared all evening and the implication is as glaring as his lie.

“Ah, I- yeah, yeah for sure.” With a quick goodbye and a stiff turn, he moves himself forward. “Follow me.”

Toe to heel, they only make it a few strides before Akaashi sends a quick glance down the empty hall toward darkness and opens doors and reaches out. His hand tangles in the hem of Osamu’s shirt and tugs as soon as it makes contact.

Osamu stumbles back a step as if he wasn’t prepared for this to begin with.

It shouldn’t be a surprise.

Akaashi saw his chance and took it. 

He’s tired of waiting. Assumed they both were.

Akaashi leads their scurry down the hall. He’s only been here a couple of times, but he knows where to go to get them shuffling into the bathroom. Light flicked on, the door is shut and locked just in time for Akaashi to press him up against it. Osamu’s head smacks the wood with a clumsy thud, hands coming out to grip Akaashi’s sides.

“ _ Gentle, _ ” He scolds through a laugh.

“Since when?” Akaashi bites back- a hair’s breadth away from their mouths touching like the rest of them- slotted together from shoulders to knees. He only gets another laugh, just as loud, just as careless. “ _ Hush. _ ” 

Akaashi loves as much as he hates the way Osamu always smiles into their first kiss. Hates it because it always feels like he’s being made fun of. Loves it because it’s easy and carefree and so many other things that he can’t see in himself. This time, not entirely unusual, Osamu tastes like the end of a cigarette and  _ something  _ Akaashi doesn’t focus on long enough to figure out.

The moment he feels a tongue try and tempt his mouth to open, he backs off. There’s a grumbled sound of protest, but he ducks lower to seek out the warmth of Osamu’s pulse with his lips. They press light, breathe against it, feel Osamu’s voice rumble beneath each kiss.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d finally get me away from the pack.”

“Are you bothered by my predictability?” Akaashi speaks soft but stern into his skin, fingers finding their purchase in the front of his shirt.

Osamu hums all long and taunting back at him. The hands on Akaashi’s back press harder as if to keep him from backing away again. “Do I seem bothered?”

“No.”

“Then why’re ya askin’? It was yer turn after all. I made the first move last time.”

“Texting me-  _ come to my van after the game  _ -is hardly a move.”

“Yeah, well,” Akaashi should have kept kissing him just to shut him up. “I never said it was a good one. Or smooth. But you came anyway so it was good enough.” He’s talking too loud. “Not like yers was any better.” Always making a show of goading Akaashi until he forces him to cooperate. “Yanking me down the hall an’ everything.”

“Be _quiet-”_ It’s how he starts, but that’s not what it’s about. It’s about getting them moving. Hurrying things along before anyone realizes they're gone. Before he realizes this is a horrible idea. _“_ Just- come here-” He tugs Osamu by the shirt, steps backwards quickly, finds the vanity with his calves and struggles against it. “Help me up.”

“So pushy tonight.” 

He’s still making light of everything. Taking his time wrapping his hands around Akaashi’s waist. He’s clumsier than usual as he helps hoist Akaashi up onto the lip of the sink. And his hands won’t stop moving, skirting over Akaashi’s sides, down to fiddle with the belt loops on his jeans. When he gives a rather forceful bite to Akaashi’s lip, gets a small squeak in return, he laughs into Akaashi’s open mouth. It’s a laugh that worms suspicion further toward the front of Akaashi’s mind. He isn’t ever laughed  _ at.  _

Hands to Osamu’s shoulders, he pushes them apart and leans back toward the mirror. Getting a good look at his face- the drowsy, bleary way he’s being stared back at- the amused curve of Osamu’s mouth- the faint scent that had been nagging at him since they’d shut themselves in here- the answer seems clear but Akaashi asks anyway,

“Are you high?”

“Are you drunk?”

It’s parroted back at him in the same dry tone. Osamu makes a show of dipping his brows in to match Akaashi’s before he coughs to suppress another chuckle- he  _ knows _ better by now than to laugh when Akaashi’s being serious.

“No. I’m not drunk.” He’d had one drink- maybe two. Definitely nowhere near drunk “I have to leave later.”

“ _ And?  _ I coulda gotcha home safe.”

Akaashi stops the sway forward for another kiss by taking Osamu by the cheeks.

“You are.” Moth drawn to the flame, Osamu’s hands are always on him behind closed doors. They come up to his wrists first before sliding down his arms and then right back up. “That’s where you went earlier, right?”

“You keepin’ tabs on me? That’s sweet,”

Osamu grins and despite the way that usually makes Akaashi want to mirror the expression, he feels his face scrunch up. It’s short lived. The hands on Akaashi’s arms leave to take him by the face instead. It must be comical; both of them holding each other’s faces and frowning. He shouldn’t be frowning at all. He should really be more spontaneous- as if trying to fool around with his friend- admittedly _, with benefits_ at this point- in a cramped bathroom wasn’t spontaneous enough.

“Alright, alright,” Loud and lofty, Osamu pushes at his cheeks. “Stop givin’ me yer stern look- It’s nothin’, I promise. I’m good.”

“Are you?”

Dropping his hold, Akaashi shifts to move off the counter. The hands on his own face fall too, but they go to his shoulders to keep him in place.

“Hey, hey, I am. Where’re ya goin’?” When Akaashi stills, they fall further to land on his thighs and smoothe upwards. “Y’just got me here. All to yerself.” When Akaashi looks up from the fingers pushing into the crease of his jeans, there’s a smile looming over him again but less of a sneer now. “So, what’s up?”

“What’s  _ up? _ ”

“Did ya need somethin’? Y’dragged me away pretty urgently. I’m all eyes.”

“All ears.” Akaashi corrects, but it doesn’t deter the way Osamu curves over him and corners him against the mirror.

“Yeah, but m’eyes too.” Osamu goes lower this time, seeking out his jaw first, then just below his ear. He nips at the space there, breathing warm words to tickle his skin. “You look good tonight.”

“I look the same as I always do.”

His tone fails to belie anything else. The rest of him is far too telling- the tip of his head to offer more of his neck- the twitch of his fingers in their hold at the edge of the counter- the slight catch of his inhale. 

“Which is  _ good _ .”

“Well-” 

“Damn, ‘Kaashi,'' Osamu leans back, sounding annoyed but looking entertained as ever. “How many time’s it gonna take before you let me flirt without tryin’ to correct me?”

Akaashi tries to keep as much disinterest in his stare as he can, being held up with his face hot and his legs spread. “Get better at it and I won’t have to.”

“ _ Ouch _ , I think I’m just fine at it considerin’ you keep comin’ back.” His smile turns to a grin. The one that always means trouble. “You were sloppy this time.” That  _ always  _ means Akaashi has already lost. “When I was outside Rin asked why some guy kept starin’ at me. If yer not careful, someone’s going to figure it out.”

“Sounds as though your friend already has.”

“Maybe. But he wouldn’t care even if he did. He doesn’t really bother with shit like that. He’d prolly mock me but-”

“Why would he do that?” His eyes narrow and that grin falls a little more dim beneath his scrutiny. “Is there something joke worthy about that possibility that we may be-”

“No, no- hey, don’t go down that road. Yer such a pessimist sometimes. There’s nothin’ funny ‘bout this. I just meant- because it’s- well, I’m…” His hands squeeze at the outside of Akaashi’s thighs. They’re rubbing up and down in an instant; trying to placate him once Osamu’s gaze falls away. “Eh, hey, y’know I bet Tsumu’s got some lube in here somewhere.”

Before Akaashi can really process the remark, a rush of cool air is knocking into him as Osamu squats and wrenches open the cabinet underneath him. His legs are knocked with the doors, lifting on either side of them and making him huff with the shift.

“Careful _. _ ” He chides, but it’s already being covered by the sound of Osamu fumbling through whatevers below. Moving his scowl toward the wall in front of him, his heels tap against the cabinet doors. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“What?” 

“The thought of touching your brother’s lube-”

“As if his boyfriend wouldn’t disinfect a bottle of lube after using it.” The cabinets swing shut once more. Osamu switches to the drawers then, rifling through the bottom then the one just above it. “And if we’re lucky, I can find an unopened bottle and-” His hand comes up between them, small bottle nestled against his palm. “Here we go-”

The cap is unscrewed just before Osamu shows off the foil covering over the top. “See? Untouched.”

“ _ I’m  _ not the one that should be bothered-”

“Yer always the bothered one.”

Akaashi huffs at the way the comment is muttered down to the floor. It’s not to hide what Osamu said- Akaashi knows it’s just because Osamu is grinning and Akaashi’s being spared the irritation of having it stare back at him. Because when Osamu stands up, it’s faded into nothing more than a slight smirk.

“He’s gonna know.” Akaashi remarks flatly but Osamu is already ripping the tab off and flicking it toward the shower curtain.

“Nah, he’s too dumb to remember if he opened it or not. Don’t really care either.” 

His eyes roll but he won’t be around to deal with it if-  _ when _ \- Atsumu figures things out. He can always deny it if he has to. If Osamu doesn’t want to acknowledge this for what it’s becoming. If they both want to just play it off like an ill-advised mishap.

“You have an awful lot of rebuttals despite bein’ the one who brought me in here.”

He’s not wrong. Sometimes, Akaashi is just difficult. He knows this wasn’t a smart decision. But he’s stressed and it’s late and he’s getting weaker and weaker every time they see each other.

And even though it’s a poor decision, he’s paying that fact very little mind. Truthfully, he’s blatantly ignoring it as he pops open the button on his jeans and pushes his weight onto one hand. The sign is clear- Osamu’s hands are on his waistband in an instant, tugging the denim and his underwear off. Feet kicking, they fall from one leg then the other before the cold porcelain meets the underside of his thighs with a hiss.

Osamu moves to step back between his open knees, but Akaashi scrunches a leg up in between them. 

“Wait-” His leg eases down, foot stretching to point toward the drawer. “Condom. Get me one as well.” Osamu stops in his bend back over the drawer. His head turns, one foil square hanging in his fingers as he squints. “I’m not getting my shirt dirty.”

“You could take it off.”

“I am  _ not  _ getting caught naked in your brother’s bathroom.”

“But getting caught with a dick up yer ass is any less embarrassin’?”

Somehow, it is. 

He shakes his hand in the air until Osamu sighs and complies by placing another in his palm. That’s all he gets and Akaashi’s fingers flex impatiently. “The lube too.”

“Nah, I wanna-”

“You’ll take too long.”

“No I won’t.”

“You always do.”

“Is that a  _ bad  _ thing?” It sounds like a pout but he hands it over anyway. Roughly. Smacks it against Akaashi’s palm and pulls his hand away fast. Definitely a pout. “Didn’t know you hated it that much.”

“I didn’t say that.” First, the condom- ripped open and slipped down the half-hard curve of his dick. Second, lube- squeezed onto his fingers and smoothed around till it’s warm. “We don’t have the time.”

Akaashi lifts his leg again and it’s caught in the bend of Osamu’s arm without even a look of a request. Osamu tucks it up higher, grumbling back at him.

“Cause  _ you _ couldn’t wait a few hours.”

“If not now-” He stops for a breath. The feeling of a finger skimming over his rim shocks a bit of clarity back through him. The reality of where he is and what he’s doing. He has to push through the part of him that immediately starts scolding. This is ridiculous and he  _ knows _ that but he wants this. Tells himself he needs it. “If not now, it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Y’wouldn’t let me come home with you?”

“That’s not-” The first digit slips inside, slow. Back out, even slower. “Someone would notice.”

“Is that so bad?”

Akaashi grunts to avoid having to answer that with anything definitive. They really haven’t talked about this much. What it is. They just do. For once in Akaashi’s life, he’s  _ doing _ and not obsessing over the meaning behind every tiny word and glance. Well, he tries not to. There’s still a good amount of obsessing. But he does it on his own time, in between train rides to work, while heating a meal on the stove, when he’s on the phone with Bokuto and doesn’t actually care to listen to what’s being rattled on about for minute after minute-

He promptly tries to distract himself from obsessing at this very moment by working another finger inside and curling them. Cheek pulled between his teeth, his quiet gasp is covered by the outflow of Osamu’s thoughts.

“I really don’t think anyone would care. It’s not a big deal and if it’s nothin’ serious- I mean- or, well,  _ besides _ \- I think draggin’ me in here is a lot more conspicuous than leavin’ together.” He pauses. The silence makes Akaashi look up. Blink back. Entirely lost to whatever was just said to him. “Whenever you don’t talk back I know it’s ‘cause you think I’m right.”

“I wasn’t listening.” He confesses without excuse or apology. Osamu gives him an annoyed little frown, pinching where his hand can reach. It happens to be the back of Akaashi’s thigh and the slight pain does nothing more than make him flinch and slip his fingers a little deeper. “I’m- focusing.”

“ _ Mhm _ ,” Osamu isn’t convinced. He shouldn’t be. It was a weak excuse. “Keep focusin’ then instead of admitting you know how obvious it is that we’re in here.” 

“Would you rather I leave?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then shut up.”

“ _ Pushy _ .” Osamu retorts for the second time. He’s back to poking around, trading in his frown for aggravating presumption. “What’s gotcha so huffy?”

“When am I not  _ huffy _ ?”

“No, it’s different. Work been okay?”

Akaashi shrugs. He doesn’t want to talk about the fact that he’s drowning in deadlines when he has fingers inside himself. He doesn’t want to talk about  _ anything _ .

“Y’miss me then?”

Akaashi ducks his head and scoffs this time; but he can feel himself smile too and that’s only encouragement.

“Yeah, been too long, hasn’t it?”

A warm hand meets the top of his thigh and Akaashi nearly jumps. He watches it spread wide, slide up and in before coming back down just as fast. There’s a subtle pressure to the way Osamu grips his leg and pushes against the tiny twitching of the muscle underneath.

“Just couldn’t wait to jump ma bones? Wasn’t just Rin, y’know- I could sense ya watchin’ me all night. Felt like I was bein’ hunted down. Y’didn’t hafta wait so long. You know I’ll do anything you say. Coulda walked right up to me first thing and I woulda followed ya right out the door.”

Akaashi does know. He’s taken advantage of that fact on more than one occasion. But he didn’t want to be  _ too _ direct. Not in the middle of a party. Not when he would be pulling Osmau from the place he’s probably meant to be. He usually crashes here when he’s in Tokyo- getting him to leave would be asking too much. It would leave too many loose ends. It had to happen like this. He’d already spent too much time rationalizing this to waste the opportunity. 

“Why didn’t you say anything when y’came in at least? Not even a hello? We don’t gotta act like strangers.”

But it was just easier that way. Easier to act like acquaintances that are nothing past cordial when they happen to see each other. No one needs to know anything more. He could tell himself it’s because it’s more fun this way but really,  _ really,  _ he knows it's all for the sake of keeping things simple. Of keeping himself from having to explain everything when it eventually stops and he’s left by himself again.

The thought sours his buzz and he lets out a heavy sigh to try and breathe it all down into his lap. It must be taken as something else- irritation, impatience possibly- because the hand on his thigh tightens. The intense grip of those fingers makes him shudder as his own curl a little too quick and eager inside himself. The low mutter of Osamu’s voice kickstarts the tremble in his core once more.

“What’s that look for? I’m just sayin’ you made me wait and wait but as soon as  _ I’m _ the one who wants to be thorough with shit it’s all hurryin’ and no time for it _. _ ”

_ Thorough- _ he says but means dragging things out unnecessarily and sometimes- no, arguably- cruelly. The number of times being  _ thorough _ has led to a completely unreasonable amount of lube and him coming on Osamu’s fingers alone is more than he’d care to admit. Osamu just likes making a mess. Of everything. Of Akaashi. Likes the sound it makes, all wet and sticky. Not this time. He damn well meant it when he said there is no  _ time _ .

“We’re in a hurry, yeah?” A knuckle curls under Akaashi’s chin, trying to tip his head back and make their eyes meet; but Akaashi can be stubborn when he wants to be and right now-  _ right now _ , he doesn’t want to play into Osamu’s hand. But his touch is so warm, so gentle and coercive. And his voice is sweet, thick in the air and tickling at the base of Akaashi’s spine. “C’mon now, how y’gonna take me when yer squirmin’ on just two fingers?”

Despite the way his stomach falls, Akaashi’s head lifts and he hopes to every god out there that his glare is as severe as he needs it to be.

Even if it is, all Osamu does is smile and rub at the inside of his knee.

“Worked up tonight- aren’t ya, angel?”

“Do  _ not- _ ”

“Add another, then. Yer gonna need it.” His mouth is looser than usual. The smugness is nothing new- and he talks more than Akaashi ever does- but never quite this much. And he knows how much that stupid name gets on Akaashi’s nerves. Makes his skin crawl. It’s too fond. Too intimate. Doesn’t fit what they’re doing or who Akaashi probably is to him. “And we’re in a hurry after all.”

Akaashi holds his glare steady as he slips another finger past the stretch of his rim. His hips jump at the burn, trying to pull away but also forcibly rolling down into his own touch. Eyes scrunching shut, he puffs through the twinge. His fingers push and spread, testing the line of pain and a pleasant ache. It’s not the best he could do- the lip of the sink is rigid cold against his tailbone, one arm is already starting to shake from holding him up while the other has a pang starting to run from his crooked elbow to the uncomfortable angle of his wrist as it moves his fingers in and out. Still, there’s a heat starting to crawl up his spine and the whimper that may or may not leave his mouth is mostly involuntary but entirely because of the prod of his fingers toward his stomach.

He opens his eyes, shamefully accepting it was indeed his own noise. His head tips back but there’s no hungry gleam staring at him. No, it’s with a grave, head-rushing realization that he notes how far down Osamu’s gaze has strayed. It’s locked between Akaashi’s legs, tired but enthralled by his working hand.

Akaashi’s lip curls, both discomfort and something greedy unfurling in his gut. He wants every bit of Osamu’s attention but he  _ loathes _ being watched like this. He gets the urge to kick him but he holds back. Instead, he pulls his hand away and moves as far to the edge of the counter as he can. 

Still gawking, Osamu’s eyes flick around but stay low. His lids are drooping and he’s taking deep breaths at the sight alone. Akaashi  _ really _ wants to kick him.

“You’re wasting time.” 

“I’m enjoyin’ the view.” But then he looks up and tilts his head with an innocent concern. “You sure that’s enough?” Tucking Akaashi’s leg between his side and the bend of his arm, his pants are opened with a loud zip. “Looked like you coulda used s’more time.”

“I’m good.”

“Yeah? If that’s what you think-”

Pants open and shoved with the work of one hand to his thighs, he fumbles around between cradling Akaashi’s legs and tearing open the condom. Pinched lips hold in Akaashi’s laugh but it dies soon enough when he takes a deep breath and tries not to outright stare as Osamu rolls the condom on and gives himself a few lazy strokes.

“You should get on with it.”

“Right, I’m movin’ with haste- can’t ya tell?”

“No.” A click of Osamu’s tongue makes Akaashi’s lips purse to hold back another smile. Then, the lube is pulled from where it’s tucked under his thigh. “That’s excessive.”

His comment is out and ignored before the glob rolling from the bottle even hits Osamu’s palm.

“Gotta be.” The bottle is dropped into the drawer and it’s kicked shut before Osamu takes his dick in his slick palm and grins. “Can’t have ya limpin’ outta here.”

_ Messy. _

“That’s the reason, sure.”

“What?” Osamu steps forward, arm sliding up the bottom of Akaashi’s leg until he’s got a grip around his thigh. “You got somethin’ to say?”

“ _ Hurry up. _ ” It’s a bored-sounding taunt and Osamu snorts back at him. His leg kicks in the hold, curling around and thumping a heel against Osamu’s back. “And don’t go easy on me.”

“Do I ever?”

Yes.

Too many times. 

Too many nights when all Akaashi needed was someone to distract him and instead got soft touches and tender kisses that lingered too long and smiles that were far warmer than anything simply rooted in attraction.

But admitting that seems like overstepping some invisible line they’d drawn; so all Akaashi can do is open his knees a little wider and breathe. 

Breathe and brace himself for the first push inside. He pitches forward to wheeze open-mouthed and close-eyed between them. There is the smallest pause before Osamu keeps going, bit by bit, steady and slow. Back curved into the mirror, Akaashi grips the edge of the counter until his fingers ache. With another slide deeper, his jaw shuts with a clack. The deep breath sliding in through his teeth only makes it worse, makes the pressure ballooning inside of him that much heavier. His exhale follows like a punch.

“Told ya,” Osamu croons above him. His fingers brush softly at the inside of Akaashi’s thighs, but his tone stays near a jeer and the drive of his hips forward is unrelenting until they’re settled against the clammy curve of Akaashi’s ass. “Y’needed more time.”

He didn’t. This is what he wanted. The burn. The blinding feeling of being stretched and filled until it swelled all the way up into his throat.

“Didn’t need  _ shit _ .”

“Oh yer cursin’ now?”

“Often.” He bites, the word short and severe.

“Yeah, when yer mad. Or turned on- Which is it right now?”

When Akaashi’s eyes open, the first thing he regrettably notices is the bob of his flushed dick, opaque through the wetness collecting inside the condom. Then, in his best attempt to ignore that, he looks up- rolls his head back just enough to meet the stormy eyes clouding over him, cool rain, wracking thunder, lightning striking him to the core.

“Can it not be both?”

Osamu leans forward. “ _ Aw,  _ yer mad at me?”

He presses Akaashi into an uncomfortable, crumpled hunch between the mirror and avoiding the patronizing kiss Osamu tries to give him. Akaashi turns his face away instead. Lips meet his cheek and out comes a laugh to ghost across his face.

“You’re being purposefully obtuse to get on my nerves.”

“Yeah,” Osamu slinks away, back into a stand that slides his cock out in the process. “I am. I kinda think ya like it when I’m difficult. And- it’s cute when ya get all frustrated.”

Akaashi tries to disregard the swoop and twist his stomach makes at the comment. He stares back with all the protest left in him- which is a pitiful amount considering the position he’s so willingly put himself in.

This is all a little desperate.

A lot foolish.

But despite the nerves of being caught or of having to face whatever this is headon, there isn’t a single whisper of regret.

“C’mon,” The silence only makes Osamu smirk. - _ Whenever you don’t talk back I know it’s ‘cause you think I’m right- _ “Yer smart mouth got nothin’ else left in it? ‘Cause I bet I can get somethin’ to come out.”

On the tail end of that remark, he’s pushing back in- barely- enough that it tingles up the harsh curve of Akaashi’s spine but still nothing more than a growing itch. He just wants to slump down and sink himself to the hilt but he’s stuck, perched up high and left at Osamu’s mercy.

With every abrupt shift back, the head catches against his rim and Akaashi feels his abs tighten, his legs quiver, his hole clench, his entire body tries to pull more in- greedy- whatever he can get- screaming to get this over with before it’s been too long.

But when Osamu gives up on the shallow back and forth and starts feeding his cock in deep and unforgiving, Akaashi can’t help the yelp that breaks from his mouth. Osamu doesn’t let up- if anything, his fingers dig into the give of his legs and he goes quicker. He pulls and pushes to counter his thrusts and keep Akaashi seated just on the edge of the counter. Still, he pants a laugh and grins.

“See? Who needs to be quiet now?”

He’s right.

He’s  _ always _ right. When it counts.

And Akaashi is always a hypocrite that pretends not to give him enough credit where it’s so obviously due. It’s fun that way. But it usually comes back to haunt him.

He tries his best to fight back. His mouth opens to spit something snide, but the only thing his throat manages to expel is a shuddering moan when Osamu hikes his leg a little higher, a little wider, and rocks forward.

Instead of trying again- He aborts that plan altogether. His head cranes back until it meets glass and then tucks to the side. One hand breaks free from the hold he has on the counter. He presses curled knuckles against his mouth, heaving wet breaths through the cracks between his fingers. It doesn’t do much to stifle his mewling and shuddering gasps but biting at the skin does. If only just a little. So he bites harder. Probably too hard. Hard enough to have tiny divots in the skin of his spindly fingers.

He expects Osamu to wrench his arm away. To pull at his face and make him look at them together like he usually does- but for once, Akaashi is spared the crippling embarrassment. If being spared means having a mouth and teeth against the bared expanse of his neck. Having words thrown out on a gruff mutter just below his ear.

“When’re y’comin’ back to Kobe?”

Akaashi releases the hold he has on his knuckles to furrow his brow and try to work through the question.

“I don’t-” He groans. He can’t. Speak. Or think. Not like this. Spit slick fingers smear against his cheek as his head shakes weakly. “I don’t know.”

“Soon.” It wasn’t even a question then. It was an urgent request hidden behind the upward tilt of his tone. “Want ya in my bed again.” 

“You have me here.”

“Yer rushin’ me.” Akaashi squints toward the bright love above them at that remark. “Not enough time.”

He forces his words. Winded and hiccuped. “For  _ what _ ?”

“ _ Anything. _ ” A defeated sigh. “An’ everything. What I wanna do to ya.”

This time, Akaashi lets the quiet whimper wrapped around the lump in his throat offer some sort of question. The sound that echoes him verges on a growl against his throat. It vibrates around in his head and melts all the way down him, hot lava prickling the skin under his clothes.

“Wanna eatcha out.” He would sob if he could. Drag out a moan long and loud just to make sure his approval is clear. His point makes it across if the nip and suck at his jaw are good enough to go by. Those teeth go to his ear again, muttering low right into the fraying edges of his mind. “Y’like that? Too bad you couldn’t wait. I don’t see ya for two months and yer gonna drag me into a fuckin’ bathroom?”

The hands on his thighs squeeze so tight and he desperately swallows the keen burning in his chest. Maybe they’ll bruise. Maybe he’ll be sore for days. Maybe, for once, he’ll feel satisfied enough not to miss this the second it’s over. He knows it’s a pipedream in the end.

“Yer cruel, Keiji.” To hold it all inside, Akaashi bites into his bottom lip. Osamu only calls him that when they’re like this but it never ceases to make him shiver. “You deserve more than this, yeah? You are all I think about, I swear, wanna take ya apart on my fuckin’ fingers- an’ my mouth- an’ my dick- over and over-” 

He’s jerked forward, pulled further off the counter until the faucet is digging into his back, his hands are back to clawing at the tile, and he has to shut his eyes and hook his ankles just to keep them steady. Osamu all but knocks their foreheads together with the next cant of his hips. The dull ache that spreads at the contact is forgotten as soon as he feels it- sucked out by the mouth just inches away, pulling in every breath as soon as it leaves him. 

“I don’t want anyone around next time. Wantcha to be as loud as you can get- y’sound so pretty when yer beggin’ for me-  _ shit Keiji _ , yer too much- yer so good-”

He wants to rush forward and kiss him. Akaashi can feel it- they’re  _ so _ close, but he can’t move through even the tiny space between their pants. He’s stuck, tied up in a knot. Pulled more taut by the second. Opening his eyes is the worst mistake of them all. Osamu’s gaze is too intense. Too close. It would surely swallow him whole if it could. And something about staring straight into one another winds things that much tighter.

There’s the briefest shock of tenderness through the brush of their noses before it’s devoured once more by a tongue curling into his open mouth. It’s hard, breathing like this- Thinking like this- Keeping from screaming when he’s being touched just right and kissed just right and fucked just right.

He does what he can.

He whines into Osamu’s mouth and lets himself go heavy in his hold as he comes. The sensitive shakes of his body are met with hurried, jolting thrusts that only make it harder to stop trembling- but soon enough, abruptly so, the room spins until it stills.

The silence that blankets them is the most peace he’s found in weeks. Everything is quiet except for the gentle breathing in the gaps between their lips. They settle there, for a moment, motionless and calm.

When Osamu eventually leans back, Akaashi let’s his head hang. His weight shifts when one of Osamu’s hands leaves his leg to slide the condom from his dick.

“You sure I can’t follow ya home?” He always speaks so softly afterwards. It’s never tentative, just a subtle breeze after torrential winds subside.

“Mhm.” Just the smallest sound and his throat feels dry. “You should stay here.” 

“Should.”

They both know it. But it leaves room for the unspoken truth that  _ should _ doesn't always mean  _ want to. _

“Yes.” When Akaashi finds himself again and lays a few pats to his chest, Osamu steps away and helps to ease him off the counter. “It was good to see you.” His legs wobble with the first bit of weight that’s put on them. The hands under his elbows help, but he brushes Osamu away quick enough and reaches to pull his pants up. “Let’s hope our next meeting isn’t as far off.”

“Doesn’t hafta be.” The sound of Osmau’s zipper punctuates the end of things just as it had the beginning. He backs up to take Akaashi’s place against the sink, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ve got my number.”

“And you have mine.” Akaashi looks down to straighten his shirt and avoid having to look at the expression Osamu is giving him.

“Maybe I’ll make it sooner rather than later.”

He doesn’t like how heavy the eyes on him feel. How heavy these words drop into their comfortable space.

“I won’t oppose you.” Their goodbyes don’t often sound so serious. So much like a promise. He isn’t quite sure what made this time any different but- he’s not too bothered by the prospect. “I’ll go first.”

If he allowed himself, he might even concede that he’s a tad hopeful.

“I’ll miss ya.”

_ Possibly _ , more than a tad. 

He turns to face the door, simper tucked down and hidden away in his reach for the locked knob.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

That should have been it.

Open the door. Walk out.

But he only gets it unlocked before there’s a hand around his wrist, yanking him back a step, pulling him to turn around and stumble into waiting arms.

There’s no time to catch himself, or question, or scold. Too suddenly, Osamu has him by the cheeks. Has his lips pressed firmly to Akaashi’s. Has their eyes falling shut to cling to a final moment. 

They part with a soft sound and the blinking flutter of lashes. Unfocused and pleasantly dazed, Akaashi smiles at the farewell whispered along his blush.

“G’night, Keiji.”

That should have been it; but he was beyond contented that it wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter ♡ [ @scuttlebuttles](https://twitter.com/scuttlebuttles?s=17)  
> 


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